Striding Leaves
by Sammael Silverpen
Summary: AU. Legolas, a blind young Elf from Mirkwood joins the Fellowship to seek revenge on Sauron who ruined his childhood and robbed him of his sight. But can the Fellowship truly trust him? ON HIATUS, UNDER REVISION.
1. A Fellowship

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its recognisable characters, places, etc. All though I really wish I did.

Note: Yes this is AU. No there is no slash, romance, or any kinda mushy lovey-dovey gush. Eww. Reviews are loved and cherished. Flames are warm and toasty and may be re-directed right back. This fic is a mix of book and movie verse and some complete random ideas I had. And it starts around the time of the chapter "The Ring goes South".

Now on with the tale!

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**Chapter 1: Two's company, three's a crowd, nine's...?**

Rain poured from the sky, a torrential downpour that threatened to overflow rivers and flood valleys. Thunder boomed and lightning split the clouds with a fierce scream of electricity. The wind howled and screeched, driving the freezing rain in every direction. The forest trees swayed dangerously, every new gust threatening to topple them with a bang equal only to the thunder.

The forest spread across hills and caves and valleys for miles on end. It was in one of these caves that the oddest assortment of companions huddled, seeking some form of shelter from the cruel weather.

Nine companions traversing the wild in speed and in secrecy. In this company there was at least one representative for each of the Free Folk. Gandalf the Grey was a wizard and he led the company, calling upon his vast experience and careful planning to aid them.

For the race of Men there were two: Aragorn son of Arathorn, a Ranger of the North and secret heir to the throne of Gondor; and Boromir son of Gondor's Steward, Denethor. Boromir had made his dislike of the Ranger clear since the Council of Elrond, sometimes going as far as open animosity. Aragorn, however, seemed to treat Boromir with an open, yet slightly wary, mind.

There were also four Hobbits: Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry), Peregrin Took (Pippin), Frodo Baggins, and Samwise Gamgee (Sam). Merry, Pippin and Frodo were cousins and Sam was Frodo's best friends, gardener and self-appointed bodyguard. Merry and Pippin were too busy stealing mushrooms from each other to devout themselves entirely to protecting the most important member of the Fellowship.

For the Dwarvish race there was only Gimli son of Glóin who, like Boromir, showed an open dislike of a member of the Company. But this hostility was not directed at Aragorn, but at Legolas of the Elves. Gimli, it seemed, hated everything he could find about Legolas. He was an Elf; His father had unjustly imprisoned Gimli's father; he was a Prince; he'd been to Mordor; he was blind.

Legolas, at Gandalf's request, had slowly, haltingly told much of his life's story to the Fellowship before they had set out. Despite his blindness, he was as good a warrior as any Elf. His only set-back was the shard of Sauron's spirit that nestled within him, clouding his sight and taking control whenever Legolas accidentally slipped into the Black Speech.

These nine companions were on the most dangerous Quest of their time: sneak into the heart of the dark land of Mordor and destroy the weapon of the enemy - the One Ring - that currently hung around the neck of Frodo Baggins. Aside from the nine companions there was also a pony named Bill, who was the beast of burden.

On this particular night, however, it appeared as though the Fellowship was going nowhere for at least a day. Trapped in a cave scarcely big enough to fit them all, tempers were frayed and patience was growing thin.

*.*.*

"ARGH!" Gimli yelled in frustration, throwing down his flint from his (very) unsuccessful attempt to start a fire.

"Guess we're not having a fire tonight, Bill," whispered Sam, stroking the pony's velvety nose.

Gimli glared at the damp wood in front him with more hatred than he'd shown towards even an Elf.

"Let me try, Gimli," said Aragorn, sitting down next to him and picking up the discarded flint.

"By all means, Aragorn, since this is the best wood our Elf could find," he growled. Legolas gave no indication that he had heard Gimli and simply continued to stare out at the rain as if he could see it.

"Gandalf," said Pippin turning to the wizard, "How long will the rain last?" Gandalf frowned.

"Good question. Legolas?"

"Hmm?"

"How much longer?"

"Oh, about five or six hours." He shrugged. "We can definitely leave by dawn." The rain had not bothered him as much as the others but the sheer noise of the thunder had tormented his sensitive ears. There was a collective sigh of resignation from all of the Hobbits. A gloomy silence fell over the cave, save for the sound of the flint striking and the rain outside.

"AHA!" Aragorn yelled delightedly as a spark caught hold of the wood and a small fire sprung up.

"Success!" roared Gimli. Almost immediately Sam was over with frying pan in one hand and bacon n the other. The sound and smell of the sizzling bacon soon filled the air and the Fellowship were able to treat themselves to a hot meal for a change.

"Mr. Legolas?" said Sam, looking up from his plate. "Don't you want some bacon, sir?"

Legolas turned slightly to smile warmly at the Hobbit. "No, thank you, Master Samwise. I'm not hungry."

Sam was about to reply when the ongoing bacon battle between Merry and Pippin caught his attention. Apparently while Merry had left his plate unguarded for a second to fetch something for Boromir, Pippin had seized the opportunity to steal some bacon from Merry's plate. Merry had noticed and the two had argued so fiercely over the stolen bacon that they had both accidentally knocked their plates into the fire and their bacon had become extra crispy. Both had, of course, blamed the other.

Gandalf sighed tiredly. Dawn surely could not come more swiftly.

*.*.*

Legolas did not sleep that night. He took no notice of the soft snores of his companions, nor the rain or the woodland animals that ran from shelter to shelter. His mind was far away in his memories of a cold stone room and a dark presence. And a voice as cold as the room and as dark as Legolas's sight. A voice that whispered to him endlessly: "_Survive, I command thee. Thou will survive so long as I survive. Thou will obey me and be mine unto eternity."_


	2. Friends with an Elf

Wooohooo! Chapter 2! Welcome back to Striding Leaves, I'm guessing this means you liked the first chapter. If so, thanks! If not, maybe leave me a review on how to improve! If you don't tell me what's wrong, how the hell do I fix it?

Disclaimer: See chapter 1 for that!

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**Chapter 2: Friends with an Elf  
**

The Sun crept slowly over the horizon almost as if She still expected it to be night-time. The morning air was crisp and fresh as it always was after a storm. The leaves of the trees were drooping with raindrops and mud was undisturbed on the ground. In their small cave the members of the Fellowship were beginning to stir.

The fire was already sparking cheerfully as Sam prepared breakfast with Frodo's help. Boromir was down at a nearby stream with the water flasks, refilling them for the journey ahead. Gimli was attempting to rouse the mound of blankets that was Merry and Pippin. Aragorn was scouting the paths ahead while Legolas checked his mental perimeter – a special ability that allowed him to sense when evil creatures were within a certain distance. When Pippin had asked him what it was like the Elf had simply replied: "When evil crosses the 'barrier' it's like someone throwing a rock at my head." He had then neatly dodged the rock Gimli had thrown at him.

*.*.*

After breakfast the Company set off once more with both Legolas and Aragorn's assurances that Orcs were not about to fall on top of them. They walked far that day, under the endless trees and veiled sky, over wild grass and ancient roots, until at last when the sun was just passing from its' zenith, Gandalf called for rest. The hobbits were delighted until they were forbidden a fire. So after a brief rest and a lunch of apples, they set off once more: Aragorn and Gandalf led the way with Boromir, Merry and Pippin chatting animatedly behind them; Gimli and Frodo were discussing the Bilbo's adventure with Gimli's father Glóin and the other dwarves; bringing up the rear were Legolas leading Bill for a change and Sam beside him, unable to think of anything to say.

"He is a fine animal, your Bill," said Legolas suddenly, breaking the silence. "Has he always been yours, Samwise?"

Sam was startled for a moment. "N-no," he stuttered. "No, we got him in Bree, Mr. Legolas, sir."

Legolas laughed; a silvery sound that made Sam gape in awe. "Why do you call me that, Master Samwise?" he asked smiling.

Sam frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"You called me 'Mr. Legolas' and then 'sir'," explained Legolas. "I was merely wondering why."

Sam blushed crimson. "It's just proper, sir," he muttered, utterly embarrassed. Legolas laughed again.

"Simply 'Legolas' will do fine, Master Samwise," said Legolas, smiling widely. "We are friends are we not?"

Sam stared at Legolas. He, a friend of an Elf? "Well in that case, sir – I mean Legolas – you should call me Sam." Sam blushed again.

"If you wish, Sam." Legolas frowned. "Is there something wrong with Bill?" Sam watched the pony for a moment.

"Yes! He's limping!"

Legolas handed him the rein. "I thought so. Stay with him while I fetch Aragorn." He dashed off.

Sure enough, Bill had a stone stuck in his shoe. After Aragorn prised it out with his knife, the Fellowship were forced to stop for the remainder of the day, or risk laming the pony, at which Sam firmly put his foot down. So now forcibly halted for the day, many of the Company chafed at the delay. But they put up with it, quietly, sullenly, and bided their time. It was only a day after all.

Frodo and Sam had thought it wise to sort through the baggage and see if there was any fresh fruit or vegetables that they could savage for a meal. Boromir was testing Merry and Pippin's sword-fighting by setting them against each other which was proving to be harder than he thought as the cousins were making a mockery of each other and Boromir – quite deliberately – as Gandalf watched on, amused.

Legolas's head shot bolt upright and he stared into the trees.

"Our guard-dog has a scent," Gimli laughed, attempting to bait the Elf, who wisely chose to ignore him, focusing solely on what had caught his attention.

"Has he gone deaf as well?" whispered Boromir to Gandalf, who shook his head irritably. Aragorn wandered over to his friend and shook his shoulder gently.

"Legolas?" he said softly. "Are you all right?"

"Something strange is coming this way..." he trailed off, still staring blankly into the trees.

"Strange?" Gandalf repeated. "What kind of strange?"

Legolas got to his feet. "Not Orc or Goblin. Yet not of lightness either. It puzzles me." He turned to stare at Aragorn. "I shall investigate. I will not be long."

"Do you require any assistance, my friend?" asked Aragorn, his hand settling on his sword hilt. The Elf smiled.

"No. I will return swiftly." And with that he was gone, disappearing into the branches overhead.

*.*.*

Aragorn paced the campsite worriedly. Legolas had been gone for two hours.

"I'm going to look for him," he announced suddenly.

Gandalf sighed wearily. "Sit down Aragorn and stop your fretting. Legolas can take care of himself."

Barely had Gandalf finished speaking when there was a violent rustling overhead as Legolas dropped into the campsite. The Elf was pale and drawn, his tunic was ripped and his face was covered in small scratches.

"Legolas!" cried Aragorn as he took in his appearance. "What happened to you? Did you find what you were searching for?" he asked while guiding him over to a log to sit down.

Legolas shivered violently. "I did not find it," he said thickly. "What I did find was undoubtedly much worse." He shook again.

"What was it?" whispered Pippin, his eyes round with fear.

"Nazgûl," Legolas whispered, before trembling again. "They spotted me, had Orcs chase me--" he broke off sharply and gave a cry of fear. "They are coming!"


	3. A Shred of Sauron

Welcome back to Striding Leaves! Yes I am sorry this took so but it is the longest chapter so far.

I want to thank you all for reviewing and faving and so forth. Your continued support only makes me work harder. So read, enjoy and hopefully leave another review!

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**Chapter 3: A Shred of Sauron**

A silence followed Legolas's shocking statement. A slight breeze rippled through the trees, rustling the leaves gently. The Hobbits unconsciously moved closer to Frodo and Gandalf.

"How long do we have?" Aragorn asked, breaking the silence. "How long, Legolas!" he shook the Elf by his shoulders.

"Ten, maybe, fifteen minutes before they find us." Legolas rubbed his forehead. "It is too hard to maintain a perimeter; they keep crashing through it whilst trying to find us."

"Gandalf, what do we do?" asked Pippin, sounding frightened. Gandalf sighed.

"Well, Gandalf?" asked Boromir with his hand on his sword hilt. "Do we fight to protect ourselves? Or do we flee like rabbits before the wolf?"

A high-pitched scream of an orc pierced the air, only to be answered by several more. Legolas shot to his feet.

"The scouts have found us," Legolas warned. "There is no more time."

"How is it these orcs and Nazgûl can seek us freely during the day?" Gimli growled in annoyance.

"Look about you, Master Dwarf," Gandalf explained. "Do you see how thickly woven the tree branches are? And the storm clouds still overhead ? No, here they are free to hunt us."

"Move into a circle," Aragorn ordered. "With the Hobbits in the middle. And pray the Nazgûl don't turn up to fight."

The Fellowship hastened to obey. Aragorn drew his sword and it seemed to glitter as he stood in a small patch of sunlight that had broken through both cloud and tree branch. Boromir, standing on Aragorn's right, had his sword out as did each of the Hobbits and Gandalf. Legolas had his twin Elvish knives in hand and Gimli was twirling his axe menacingly. Frodo's blade, Sting, and Gandalf's Glamdring each glowed with a fierce light.

"What kind of elf doesn't have a bow with him?" Gimli muttered under his breath.

"One who cannot take aim at an enemy," Legolas replied casually from across the circle. "Rest assured, Master Dwarf, I am quite proficient with my knives."

"Be quiet!" Gandalf admonished in a whisper.

They fell silent. Nothing could be heard but the soft sighing of the wind and the rustle of leaves. Legolas's head moved from left to right. He leaned in toward Aragorn, who was standing on his left.

"They have surrounded us," the Elf breathed. Aragorn nodded.

A twig snapped. And then another.

"Lean left, Dwarf!" Legolas shouted. Gimli automatically did so as an arrow narrowly missed his ear.

"Close shave," Gimli muttered.

And, at that moment, orcs began to pour into the clearing from all sides, shouting and waving their swords. The Fellowship stood their ground. But the orcs did not attack; instead they seemed to be waiting for something or, perhaps, _someone._

The crowd parted and a single large orc stepped into the clearing. About a head taller than the surrounding orcs, this individual was clearly one of the Uruk-hai of Mordor, and certainly a force to be reckoned with. His yellow eyes narrowed cruelly.

"Well boys, looks like we got some _snaga_ to fight today!" the orc's voice was low and guttural. Some of the smaller orcs laughed.

Legolas stiffened. "I know that voice," he muttered. "Racnak! I thought I recognised your stench," he called to the orc.

"Legolas, are you mad?" hissed Aragorn. Legolas shushed him. The orc peered at him for a moment then let out a great booming laugh.

"Little Ash!" Racnak's great shoulders shook. "I have not seen you in scores of years, not since you left us. Our Lord Sauron was most displeased." The uruk took a step forward. "Stand aside now, Ash, and I promise not to kill you."

Legolas raised his knives into an aggressive stance.

"Very well," Racnak rumbled. "Kill them all, except the littlest ones."

Within moments the clearing was chaos. The Fellowship slew many orcs, desperately rebuffing the attackers whilst trying to maintain their circle. But they were terribly outnumbered and soon they knew they would tire and the orcs would press on.

Aragorn and Boromir were working in tandem, their swords stained black with orc blood, never once letting up in their defence. About Gimli's feet were the severed heads of many an orc, his axe cutting down multiple orcs in one mighty swing. The Hobbits, while inexperienced in actual fights, bravely stabbed at any orcs that came near them, with Gandalf protecting them and killing the orcs that got too close. Legolas, too, proved that he was not to be counted as a hindrance. His long knives sliced through the orcs just as easily as Aragorn's sword, and he had no difficulty in taking out as many orcs as Gimli.

And then, just as swiftly as they had come, the orcs fled, all save Racnak. The Uruk-hai paused by the tree line and turned.

"Today you do not die by orc hands. You die by other," he said before vanishing into the trees with his fellow orc.

"Did we win?" Merry panted.

An eerie hiss interrupted Aragorn as he made to reply. A chill seemed to invade the air and it suddenly seemed that the light was dimmed. And from the shadows of the trees there stepped a Nazgûl. Its cloak rippled slightly in the light wind and its long sword was held in one armoured hand. The Fellowship stared in shock as the Nazgûl strode forward intent on Frodo. Frodo, reacting to the Nazgûl's presence, reached for the Ring. Stirred into action, the Fellowship stood in front of Frodo, save for the other Hobbits, who held onto Frodo in order to prevent him from reaching the Ring. The Nazgûl hissed in annoyance as yet another obstacle stood in front of it.

Legolas stood in front of the Fellowship, his hand upraised in the gesture for "stop". Strangely, the Nazgûl paused.

"Go back," Legolas commanded in a steady voice. "I will not let you near them."

The Nazgûl hissed again and then said something in the Black Speech of Mordor. Legolas grimaced, able as he was to understand the Speech.

"No," Legolas said, his expression fierce. "You cannot tempt me. Go back!"

The Nazgûl took a step forward.

"Go back!" Legolas commanded once more. But it was not in the Common Tongue that he said it. It was the Black Speech. Once unleashed, he could not stop the torrent of commands spilling from his lips in the Black Speech in order to repel the Nazgûl. The Nazgûl itself paused, seemingly startled, then turned and headed back into the trees.

The Fellowship stared in a mixture of horror and admiration. Legolas collapsed to the ground, quivering, words of the Black Speech still flowing.

"Legolas!" Frodo cried out, and made to run to Elf's side.

"No!" ordered Aragorn, holding the Hobbit back. "You must not speak to him or go near him now."

"Why?" asked Pippin, confused.

Before anyone could reply Legolas rose from the ground and faced the Fellowship. His eyes had turned from their normal icy-blue to a deep flaming red. His lips were pulled back in a frightening smile.

"_Ash nazg,"_ the Elf whispered then let out a terrible laugh that was not his own.

"Because he is possessed by a part of Sauron," said Gandalf in answer to Pippin's question. "For the moment he is no longer Legolas."


	4. Hidden Shadows

I did it! *collapses from writer's exhaustion* Welcome back to Striding Leaves. This is your (semi-)hard working writer who managed to hammer out another chapter. It seems rather short but I'm somewhat happy with it. You know the drill by now, read and review. And the change of username, yeah, deal with it.

And to those of you who reviewed - THANK YOU!

Those of you who nattered at me endlessly (you know who you are) well good job. The chapter is done. On to the next one, when I recover from this one. *collapses again*

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**Chapter 4: Hidden Shadows**

The Elf –for none could bear to associate him with Legolas – took a step toward to the group again, his red eyes flaming, intent on finding and taking the Ring. This time it was Gandalf that stepped forward. The elderly Wizard looked like a wizened tree facing the raging storm.

"You will not find it here," he said, raising his wooden staff in front of him. "Leave us!"

The Elf hissed, a terrible sound that sent shivers down everyone's backs. Gandalf raised his staff higher and the tip glowed bright. The Elf hissed again and ran for the trees, elvish grace lending him speed and agility.

"Aragorn!" Gandalf shouted. But the Ranger was already running, though lacking Elvish speed, he had trained hard and grown up among Elves. He jumped and landed on the Elf, knocking them both to ground. They tussled for awhile as Aragorn wrestled to subdue him and the Elf writhed to get free. Eventually the Elf was pinned to the ground, growling and shouting angrily in the Black Speech. Aragorn panted heavily as he fought to retain a grip on him, so much so that Boromir tried to go forward to help him, until Gandalf whacked him in the chest to keep him back.

After a few heart-stopping minutes, the struggle ceased. Legolas went limp in Aragorn's grip, the terrible red eyes fading back to their normal blue. Aragorn, however, did not relax his grip, instead he shook Legolas roughly.

"_Heniach nin? Pedich i lam edhellen?"_ Aragorn asked urgently in Elvish. Legolas groaned.

"_Henion._ _Avo 'osto," _Legolas replied. He switched to the Common Tongue, "Aragorn, please get up. You are rather heavy."

Aragorn got to his feet and helped Legolas up. The Elf dusted himself off with a sigh.

"I apologise for my behaviour," he said as he checked his sheathes for his knives. Immediately the Hobbits crowded around him, brimming with questions.

"What happened to you, Legolas?" Pippin asked, his eyes wide.

Merry nudged his cousin. "He already told us, stupid," he whispered.

"I know, but it was really vague," Pippin argued. "I want to hear the full story!"

"As much as you might want to hear it, Pippin, I believe Gandalf would like to move on today, without anymore interruptions," Aragorn pointed out. Indeed the Wizard did seem to rather impatient to move on.

"Yes, Gandalf. What is our course now?" Gimli asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"It would seem that the passage south is being watched, as we feared," Gandalf announced. "We must take the pass of Caradhras!"

*.*.*.

The mountain path proved much more difficult than anyone had thought. Even Boromir, who had grown up in the shadow of the White Mountains, and Aragorn, the seasoned Ranger, found it hard going. Caradhras shook in its fury at the group that trespassed across its paths, hurtling snow and ice with all its might. The Hobbits complained bitterly of the cold and their frozen feet. The Men took it in turns to carry the smallest of the Company, but even they cursed angrily as icy hail peppered their faces. Gimli declared daily that he was sick of snow, and he had quickly begun to resemble a mini-mountain. Gandalf had taken the lead of the Company, shovelling his way through the snow with his staff and bent double against the howling wind. Legolas, despite his Elvish gift to walk over snow as if it were ordinary ground, despised the mountain and was forced to walk with his hand trailing the cliff face to prevent himself from accidentally walking off the edge. Tempers were once again running high, and arguments were becoming frequent, and not just between Legolas and Gimli.

Regardless of their efforts, Caradhras threw everything it had at the group and they were forced to retreat back down the mountain, bitter at their defeat.

"And what now, Gandalf?" Boromir asked angrily one night. "The mountain rebuffs us and you do not seem to have a plan anymore! The Gap of Rohan is still open, we could slip through unnoticed."

"The Gap of Rohan is right under Saruman's nose, Boromir. It is too risky," Aragorn said wearily. He had been repeating that answer every night.

"Nonsense!" Boromir predictably replied.

"What of the Mines of Moria?" Gimli piped up suddenly. "My cousin Balin would give a royal welcome, even the Elf."

"I would not take the route through Moria, Gimli," said Aragorn, a shadow passing over his face.

"What does the Ringbearer think?" Gandalf asked, turning to Frodo.

"Yes Frodo. The mines of Moria or the Gap of Rohan and my city?" Boromir asked eagerly, mentally urging Frodo to choose the Gap.

Frodo paused, studying the faces of the Company carefully and weighing his options as best he could. He finally decided.

"We will go through the mines."

As the Fellowship moved on to other matters, nobody noticed Legolas's delicate shudder as the wind whistled eerily through the grass. He alone could hear the sinister voice that spoke in his dreams and occasionally in his waking life, like right now. A voice that spoke of possession and the darkness.

* * *

Just a quick translation of the Elvish used in this chapter. Feel free to correct me if it turns out that I'm wrong.

_Heniach nin? Pedich i lam edhellen? - Do you understand me? Do you speak Elvish?  
_

_Henion._ _Avo 'osto - I understand. Don't worry_


	5. Moonlight, Elves and Dwarves

So welcome back! This is Sammael Silverpen with a new long chapter of Striding Leaves. Not much else for me to say at the moment except: Read it, enjoy it, and maybe review it!

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**Chapter 5: Moonlight, Elves and Dwarves**

Gimli awoke with a start. It was night and the full moon cast a silvery glow over the rocks that surrounded them. The Fellowship was camped in a natural quarry, with high rock walls to shelter them from the wind. They were permitted no fire, as Aragorn did not want to risk the Enemy seeing the light or smoke. Merry and Pippin had grumbled quietly and Boromir had noted dryly that if the Enemy came knocking, they could simply stand at the top and shoot them regardless of the fire. However Aragorn and Gandalf took no notice of him and declared they would remain here for the night and proceed onwards to Moria the next day.

_Moria_.

The very name of the ancient Dwarven city sent a shiver of excitement down Gimli's back. Though Moria was not its' true name but its' Elvish one. The Dwarves called it Khazad-dûm.

In any respect, no matter what they called it, Moria was still a Dwarvish realm. Gimli's cousin, Balin, had left the Lonely Mountain some years prior to reclaim it from the Goblins. Though he had not been heard from in quite a while, Gimli was certain of his success.

Gimli sat up and cast a bleary eye over his still sleeping companions. Across camp was a tangled mess of Hobbit and blanket. From where he was sitting he could just make out Frodo's dark curls among the mass of reddish-brown that belonged to Merry, Pippin and Sam. Pippin - or was it Merry? - rolled over in his sleep, semi-crushing another Hobbit. Aragorn was nearby, covered by only his cloak, with his sword ready in his hand in case of an attack. Gimli nodded approvingly - Aragorn seemingly never slept. Boromir was on guard duty, leaning against a boulder near the entrance. He was staring out into the dark, his hand lightly resting on the hilt of his sword. Gimli strained his eyes, looking for Gandalf. There he was, near the back. His stone-grey cloak effectively hiding him from view at a glance. Gimli paused and counted his companions. Where was the Elf?

Gimli scowled and got to his feet. He knew he had to go and drag the Elf back to camp before he got himself killed by the Enemy - or worse, get the rest of them killed.

"Ho, Gimli!" Boromir whispered as the Dwarf made his way to the entrance. "Where are you off to, my friend?"

"To drag the Elf back by his pointy ears if I must," Gimli answered, just as quietly. "'Tis unsafe to wander alone."

Boromir nodded. "Indeed. Stay safe yourself, Master Dwarf." Gimli grunted and marched past him, into the tufts of thick grasses that sprang up around the rocks.

"Now where is that blasted Elf?" Gimli muttered to himself, looking about and scrambling onto a large boulder. Thankfully since the moon was full, he could see the surrounding terrain quite well. Even so, it took him a few minutes before he noticed the Elf lounging casually on a rock not too far off. Gimli grumbled irritably as he stomped over. Legolas was singing quietly to himself, seemingly obvious to everything around him. Yet as Gimli neared, he stopped singing and smiled blithely.

"Greetings, Master Dwarf," he half-sang. "What stirs you from your rest?"

Gimli scowled. "I've come to drag you back to camp, Elf."

Legolas's smile faded. "Why?" He frowned. "Is something wrong?"

"It's too dangerous to be out here by yourself."

"Dangerous for you and the rest of the Fellowship. Not so much for me." Legolas sighed and gave a sad smile.

"Of course!" Gimli threw up his hands in irritation. "You're completely correct, Master Elf, it is not dangerous, at all, for someone who is _blind _to be walking around at night, _alone_! Great immortal Elves think they're better than everyone else and can't die!" Legolas stiffened angrily and scowled.

"You don't know _anything _about me, Master Dwarf," he hissed. "Not one thing."

"Then do enlighten me, Elf, with your far superior intellect," Gimli challenged.

"Very well!" Legolas jumped to his feet and pulled out one of his knives in a smooth motion. Gimli took a step back in case the Elf decided to take a chance at injuring him. Legolas held the knife over his own left shoulder. The hand holding the knife shook violently and made jerking motions as if to pull the knife away. Gimli could not restrain himself: he leapt forward and knocked the knife from Legolas's hand. Legolas simply smiled.

"You see, Gimli?" he said a small voice. Gimli stared at him in shock: the Elf had never called him by name before. "I can not take my own life and you nor any other living being can bear to let me do so. It is part of the curse of being me."

"How?" Gimli could not help but ask.

"I am bound to this world through the Dark Lord, just as he is bound to the Ring. You will have, no doubt, by now heard the whisper of the Ring?" Legolas asked. Gimli nodded. A moment passed before Legolas sighed.

"An verbal answer if you will, Master Dwarf."

Gimli shook himself. "Yes, yes, I have heard the Ring. What of it?"

"That impulse, that whisper to take the Ring, is the same one that forced you to try and save my life," Legolas explained. "And while I host part of Sauron's spirit, I cannot go against his decree." The air about them seemed to chill suddenly as Legolas chanted: "_Survive, I command thee. Thou will survive as long as I survive. Thou will obey me and be mine unto eternity._" The warmth returned to the air, almost with a rush. "These were the words he spoke to me, the day he stole my sight from me and made me his Servant. I was to be his puppet, his tool. But he was not strong enough then, I escaped; wandered across Mordor alone and blind."

Gimli shuddered, his mind processing what the Elf had disclosed to him.

"_Why? Why this Elf? Why has Sauron not reclaimed him?"_ Gimli thought.

"Speak your mind, Gimli," Legolas said, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "I can almost feel the questions buzzing around."

Gimli glared at him, despite knowing such an act was futile. "I thought there was only one way in and out of Mordor. How did you get out?"

This time it was Legolas's turn to shudder. "There is a second way…a darker way. But I will not speak of it. Not now."

Thwarted, Gimli asked a different question, "Why an Elf? And exactly how long ago was this?"

Legolas smiled mirthlessly. "Why an Elf? Would you suspect an Elf of being Sauron in disguise?" he asked pointedly. "And as for how long ago, it was about two, maybe two and a half, hundred years ago." He shrugged. "Something like that. I forget the exact dates."

Gimli fought to keep his incredulity from showing. "How old are you, Elf?" he whispered.

"Seven or eight hundred years." Legolas mused. "Like I said, I forget the exact dates. I know I have not yet reached a thousand. I am one of the youngest, if not _the_ youngest Elf alive."

"Well that's…uh…good," Gimli stammered, trying to think of something to say.

"Getting back to your original intent, Gimli, I have shown you that I am quite safe out here by myself." Legolas smiled.

"They may not kill you, but they may harm you, poison you…" Gimli growled.

"Why, Master Dwarf, I'm beginning to think you care about my well-being!" Legolas laughed abruptly. "Your concern is misplaced. Again I would be forced to find someway to care for myself or find someone to care for me. That's how I met Aragorn actually."

Gimli raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You knew Aragorn before this little adventure, then?"

Legolas shrugged. "I had gotten separated from my guard on the way to Rivendell. It is difficult for me to travel alone and I tripped and fell, injuring my leg. I believed I was finally going to die. But Aragorn, a young Man at the time -I think he was twenty- found me and nursed me back to health. He is a healer, you know, Lord Elrond trained him well. He thought he had stumbled on me by accident, but I knew he'd secretly been compelled to find me by Sauron. I was furious with him, and he was terribly confused. He insisted on following me all the way to Rivendell, pestering me with questions. In the end, we were friends. Though I'm still not sure how."

Gimli stared at him. "So you haven't been friends all that long then?"

"That depends." Legolas shrugged. "Isn't sixty to seventy years a long time for mortals?"

"Aragorn is eighty?" Gimli asked, dumbfounded. "I knew he was older than he looked, but eighty?"

"He is of the Dunedain. That is normal for them."

Legolas sat back down on the rock, and Gimli sat down next to him.

"So tell me, Gimli, of your home under the mountain. I would like to learn more." Legolas smiled fondly. Despite himself, Gimli found himself telling Legolas about his home. And so Elf and Dwarf talked until Gimli eventually fell asleep, and Legolas sat watch over him, singing quietly, until Aragorn found them the next morning.

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That's all for this chapter, I'm afraid! Just a sorta filler chapter really but it kind of sets the scene for Legolas and Gimli's friendship later on.

Just one or two things. I know someone's going to ask about Legolas's age in this, so I'll set you straight now. I set him to be between seven and eight hundred years old. I read an article about Legolas and well it made sense and I recommend reading it. Since FFN doesn't let you provide links for some silly reason it's "squidoo. com" (only with one space!) then "/legolas-mirkwood"

There. Read the article if you're curious, it called "Legolas of Mirkwood: Prince among Equals"

I think that's everything. Until next time then!


	6. To Moria, To Khazaddûm

_As always, I do not own Lord of the Rings, sadly._

I'm not dead, I promise! I know I said I'd try to churn these out quicker but...I fail epically at keeping up with myself.

But thank you to those that reviewed. I will try, try, try! to do the next one soon.

I don't know if I've mentioned this before but Striding Leaves is a mixture of AU, book verse and movie verse. This chapter has quite a bit of dialogue and action from the movie really. Just thought I'd let you know.

Okay? We good? Then enjoy, chapter six of Striding Leaves!

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**Chapter 6: To Moria, To Khazad-dûm**

"_Edro, edro!"_ the aged wizard cried, banging his staff against the door to Moria. Boromir sighed, thoroughly frustrated by the failed attempts to enter Moria. If only they had just _listened_ to him and dared to try the Gap of Rohan, then they would not be sitting here, by some foul, wretched, stinking pool, waiting for the Wizard to open the door, or for someone, perhaps, to see sense.

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" Aragorn had protested. It was not safe, they thought, brave the Gap but to wander mindlessly into Moria, where all knew an ancient evil slept and terrors lurked in the dark, that was safe? Boromir shivered; no, he had no wish to venture in Moria.

He looked around with a vague sense of hope that one of his companions had realised their folly and would help him change Gandalf's mind. Gimli and Aragorn he dismissed immediately. Gimli would not be turned away from these old Dwarven halls and Aragorn would follow Gandalf's decision. Frodo too would not listen to him, only to Gandalf, and Samwise would follow Frodo no matter where he went.

But what of the others? Merry and Pippin he might sway if he could convince them to speak out against Gandalf. And Legolas…he glanced at the Elf, leaning against the towering holly trees as silent and still as the trees themselves. Legolas would not wish to venture in Moria. An Elf surely would prefer the path of the open air than a journey underground. He approached Legolas quietly, not wanting to be noticed, lest he change his mind.

"Yes, Master Boromir?" Legolas asked as he approached. Boromir was startled for a moment but quickly regained his composure as he thought he saw the Elf's lips twitch into an amused smile. He cleared his throat.

"Legolas, I was wondering…" He began, but the Elf swiftly cut him off.

"No, Master Boromir. I do not wish to go into Moria, but I shall follow the wishes of the Fellowship." He fixed Boromir with his blind blue gaze. "As should you."

Boromir squirmed uncomfortably. This conversation was not going as he had hoped.

"But surely, don't all Elves hate being underground?"

"That," Legolas replied, "is true in most cases. We have a tendency to panic, believe the walls are closing in and that the ceiling will collapse. I have no such fear." A dark look passed across his face, hinting at something he was not telling.

A soft _plop_ made them both turn. But it was only the young Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, throwing stones into the water. Boromir watched as Aragorn caught the arm of Pippin and spoke softly to them, his keen gaze never leaving the water.

"_Mellon!"_ Gandalf's abrupt command startled them all, but they were even more startled when the ancient stone doors of Moria scraped open. The Fellowship quickly gathered up and made their way into the Dwarven mine, eager to get out from under the exposed sky, but froze in horror at the sight of the skeletons that littered the floor with arrows scattered around them. Gimli's cries of grief echoed around them, full of sorrow for his fallen kin. Aragorn bent down to inspect the arrows.

"This is no mine." Boromir spat in disgust. "It's a tomb."

"Goblins." Aragorn clarified, straightening up and drawing his sword. Everyone bristled, readying their own weapons, watching warily for danger and half-expecting goblins to burst out at them, bristling with weapons.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here," Boromir ordered. "Now get out of here, get out!"

The Fellowship began to back away towards the exit when Frodo gave a cry, fell, and was dragged backwards by a long slimy tentacle.

"Mister Frodo!" Sam cried, leaping after him. The Hobbits tried to grab Frodo and pull him back as the tentacle dragged him towards the pool. Aragorn leapt after them as well, hacking at the tentacle with his sword. Boromir found himself frozen in horror for a moment before recovering his courage and joining Aragorn. They had come too far to lose the Ring to some creature in the water.

A horrendous screech pierced the air as more tentacles burst out of the water, battering at the Fellowship. Frodo was lifted high into the air as Aragorn and Boromir hacked their way towards him. Aragorn sliced through the tentacle holding Frodo high above them and Boromir caught the falling Hobbit securely and turned back to Fellowship, moving as quickly through the water as he could.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf commanded, ushering the other Hobbits in. Boromir set Frodo down on the shore, pushing him ahead while he slashed at the tentacles around them. He glanced around briefly; the others were making their way in, save Legolas, who was slicing at the tentacles that resolutely barred his way.

"Legolas!" Boromir cried and leapt to his aid, neatly slashing his way through and roughly pulled the Elf into the mines with him. With a ferocious cry, the creature in the lake raised its tentacles and crushed the massive stone doors with little effort and trapped the Company inside the cold emptiness of Moria.

Boromir stared at the ruined doors with a sinking heart. They were trapped. He passed a hand over his eyes as Gandalf made a light at the top of his staff. If only they had listened to him and taken the Gap of Rohan; they could be safely on their way to Minas Tirith by now. But here they were in Moria, trapped.

He looked around bitterly at the Fellowship and softened slightly when his gaze took in Legolas's trembling form. The Elf had sunk to the floor and curled up, shaking. Boromir knelt down beside him.

"Legolas? Are you alright?" He placed a hand gently on Legolas's shoulder. He jerked away as if burned but nodded.

"I am fine, Master Boromir." Legolas's voice was but a whisper. Boromir looked around and beckoned to Aragorn, who made his way over and knelt beside Legolas as well.

"Legolas?" the Ranger's voice was full of concern. "_Mellon, _are you injured? Can you walk?"

"I'm fine, Estel." Legolas finally looked up, his face deathly pale. Aragorn helped him to his feet, where he wobbled unsteadily. Boromir grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Easy now," Boromir murmured, supporting Legolas without difficulty. Aragorn nodded his thanks and headed back over to Gandalf. The two spent a few tense moments talking before Gandalf began to lead them deeper into Moria.

"Quietly now," he warned. "It is a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

Boromir followed the rest of the Fellowship, supporting Legolas, and he could not help feeling that each step they took into Moria was a step closer to their deaths. They could be as silent as the cats of Queen Berúthiel and still he had the feeling that it would be in vain. Something lurked in the dark of Moria and that something would find them, that much he was certain of.

And then, they would all wish they had listened to him and would curse their folly at dismissing the Gap. Oh yes, they would regret this choice deeply. He knew it already and soon, he was certain the others would as well.


	7. In the deep places of the world

Haha, welcome back! Admit it, how many of you thought this would take another six months or something ridiculous like that? Well here it is, Striding Leaves Chapter 7 by yours truly, Sammael Silverpen.

Thanks a lot to everyone who's reviewed and faved so far, it means a lot to me.

Here's hoping you'll enjoy this chapter too and I'll try to get the next one up soon!

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**Chapter 7: In the deep places of the world**

Slowly, quietly, the Fellowship made their way deeper into Moria with Gandalf at their head, guiding them through the maze of tunnels that burrowed through the earth. Aragorn looked around uneasily. He had been to Moria before and had disliked the idea of entering a second time. Once, he had thought, was enough for him.

He brought up the Company's rear, guarding his companions from anything that might try to sneak up on them. Once or twice he thought he caught a glimpse of the creature Gollum padding silently after them, but Aragorn had been unable to catch him.

Peering into the gloom ahead of him, he inspected his companions. Gandalf at the front with Gimli, quietly discussing the best way to proceed; then the four Hobbits, all walking close together for protection and comfort; and then Legolas and Boromir. Whatever had assailed the Elf as they had begun their descent into Moria had faded as they marched on; he was walking easily by himself again but he was easily startled and on high alert. Aragorn sighed, who wasn't on high alert here?

It was a relief to all when Gandalf finally halted their weary march. They moved to the tunnel side and hastily made a small camp before collapsing into weary bundles of strained eyes and stubbed toes. Not that this was anything new to them, nor did anyone complain but the aches and pains only made the dark oppressiveness of Moria all the worse.

"Perhaps…" Pippin ventured bravely, "We could maybe have a fire, Gandalf?" Everyone turned to look at Gandalf, secretly hoping for him to say yes and let them banish the darkness.

"No," said Gandalf after a moment of thought, effectively crushing that little hope. "We are too exposed here in the tunnels."

"Let them have their fire, Mithrandir," Legolas said, his voice still quiet. "I will keep watch and ensure nothing will be close enough to see it."

Aragorn studied Legolas's pale strained face, sensing his friend's weariness. He did not wonder if Gandalf had read the signs as well as he.

"No, Legolas. No fire." The Wizard was obstinate. "And you will rest. I will take first watch."

"I will take second," Aragorn announced.

"Third," Boromir said quickly, not wanting to be out-done by Aragorn and shooting him a quick glare. Aragorn rolled his eyes, exasperated by Boromir's attitude towards him. They were all here to protect the Fellowship and he'd agreed to come to Minas Tirith with Boromir, hadn't he? There was no need for such pointless hostilities; even Gimli and Legolas were starting to get along, if only a little.

*.*.*

The night wore on, slowly, with Aragorn following Gandalf in the succession of watches. He peered silently into the gloom, trying to watch for any sign that an enemy was drawing near. He swept his gaze over his sleeping companions, ensuring none had vanished or had been taken while he'd not been watching them. The Hobbits, as usual, slept in a huddle of pillows, blankets and cloaks in order to ensure everyone was warm and safe - something Aragorn sincerely approved of. He was unable to tell if Gandalf was awake or not; he had a habit of pretending to be asleep when he was actually awake and watching your every move. Gimli, for once, was not snoring and Aragorn wondered if that had something to do with being underground where the Dwarf was more comfortable. Boromir was thankfully asleep as well and Aragorn was pleased that the other Man was getting some rest before his own watch. Lastly his gaze fell upon Legolas.

Normally he slept still and peaceful, if he slept at all. But tonight the Elf was restless, tossing and turning and muttering. Quietly, Aragorn picked his way past the sleeping Fellowship and touched Legolas's shoulder lightly. That was enough to wake him. He sat bolt upright, looking around wildly at the world he could not see.

"Legolas," Aragorn whispered very softly. He did not want to wake the others and he was certain Legolas would hear him no matter how soft he spoke. "_Mellon, _you were restless."

"I am aware, Estel," Legolas whispered back. Aragorn's ears were keen and he did not strain to hear the Elf's whisper.

"Do you wish to talk about it?" Aragorn enquired. "I have rarely seen you so distressed."

"It is…this place." Legolas shuddered. "There is evil here that does not sleep. Older and darker than orcs or goblins."

Aragorn stared at his friend for a moment, thinking hard. He had heard rumours of an ancient evil that dwelled within Moria, but when he had travelled through before he had not seen the creature. But Elves and Dwarves were insistent that something dwelled deep in Khazad-dûm, something the Dwarves had woken by accident when they had delved too greedily and too deep. He swallowed.

"Do you mean-?" Aragorn broke off, unwilling to name it.

"One of the greatest of all elf-banes. I sensed it the moment we entered the mines. And when we became trapped within Moria, it became aware of us and sought out our minds. It met with…" Legolas touched his chest briefly. "_It, _and it hurt. That was why I was so drained before. Even now, the creature disturbs what little rest I have."

Aragorn put a comforting hand on Legolas's shoulder. He had no idea his friend was suffering so, and yet he had no way to aid him save with his presence.

"I am sorry, Legolas," Aragorn murmured. "I wish I could help." Legolas grasped his hand.

"You do help, Aragorn. You are my friend." He grinned tiredly. Aragorn could not help but grin back.

"You should get some rest," Legolas continued, climbing out of his pile of blankets. "I cannot sleep and you need rest as well. I will take the rest of your watch." Aragorn made to protest but Legolas cut him off. "There is no point in two of us being awake when one could rest."

Silently, Aragorn agreed with him but how could he let the exhausted Elf take his place? He thought quickly; there wasn't long left until Boromir's watch after all.

"Do you promise to wake Boromir for his watch?" he asked.

"Of course." The Elf sounded vaguely insulted.

Aragorn sighed; he was sure to regret this. "Alright then."

The last thing Aragorn saw as he climbed into his own blankets was Legolas, standing tall and thoughtful in the gloom, silent and still like a young tree on a windless night. Aragorn smiled softly to himself at the thought of a tree growing here in one of the deep places of the world.


	8. Splinter

Here it is. Chapter 8 at last. You've heard all my silly excuses before, so I'm just gonna let you all get on with reading it.

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Chapter 8: Splinter

The rest of their journey through Moria passed in a blur of exhaustion, fear and adrenaline as Boromir ran and battled alongside the Fellowship to escape the orcs and goblins that now infested the ancient Dwarven city. All of their nerves had been strained to breaking point ever since Pippin had dropped that stone down the well. From then on, every moment had been devoted to escaping alive.

As the Fellowship neared the Bridge of Khazad-dǔm, Boromir could hear Gandalf behind him, dimly calling out: "The Bridge! Fly!" Hastily, Boromir urged the Hobbits and Gimli ahead of him before he too began to charge across the narrow bridge that spanned the bottomless chasm below them. As he did so, he was nearly overwhelmed by a blast of heat and at the same time, Legolas let out a piercing shriek of agony. Boromir turned back to see Aragorn half-dragging Legolas across the bridge as the elf clutched his head, his face drawn with pain. Just beyond them, he saw Gandalf too, beginning to cross the bridge, chased by a monstrous being made of shadows and flame. Boromir felt a chill creep up his spine.

_The Balrog of Moria._

He had heard whispers, stories that an age-old monster lurked in the depths of Moria, but he'd never truly believed them before. What would Faramir think, when he told him that he had stood face-to-face with a monster of legend?

"_He'll never know if you don't get out of there now!"_ he scolded himself and continued to run, with Aragorn and Legolas close behind now.

It wasn't until they'd reached the other side that they realised that Gandalf had not followed them. The aged Wizard was still halfway across the Bridge, clutching his staff as if to block the Balrog's path.

"Gandalf!" Frodo's anguished cry made Boromir jump. He hadn't noticed that the Hobbit was still here, rather than with the others. He grabbed him just in time to prevent him from running to Gandalf's side.

"No Frodo!" he commanded as he lifted him, but he couldn't look away.

"Aragorn, what's happening?" He could barely hear Legolas's faint whisper. Gandalf's shout interrupted Aragorn's reply:

"**YOU SHALL NOT PASS!**"

There was a terrific crack as the bridge snapped underneath Gandalf's staff and then crumbled away, taking the Balrog with it. Boromir breathed a small sigh of relief as Gandalf began to head towards them.

And then it happened.

A fiery whip shot out of the chasm and snagged on Gandalf's ankle, dragging the old man to edge where he clung for a moment staring at them.

"Fly, you fools!" He called before being dragged down. Boromir went cold, horrified.

"Arrows!" Legolas rasped in warning.

Sure enough, arrows began to rain down on them as the goblins realised the Balrog was gone. They raced out to where the rest of the Fellowship was waiting and out into the daylight and fresh air. Boromir watched as grief began to overwhelm his companions, while he was frozen, numb with shock. Their grief was like a fog, encompassing the group and would have been clearly visible to an outsider. It blinded those within to everything else. When Aragorn spoke, it was like a horn blaring out into the fog, startling them all into awareness.

"Legolas, get them up."

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir snapped, not giving Legolas a chance to respond. How could this man, this future king of Gondor, be so callous, so cruel?

"By nightfall, these hills will be crawling with orcs," Aragorn snapped back, his expression hard, but his own grief was mirrored in his grey eyes. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien." He slid his sword into its sheath with a soft click.

Boromir's mind reeled. What was Aragorn thinking? He was trying to protect them by taking them to the Golden Wood? He stared at him, incredulous, as Aragorn helped Sam up, murmuring softly. He looked around, noting Merry and Pippin supporting each other and Gimli gently jabbing Legolas to his feet. Where was Frodo?

"Frodo!" Aragorn's voice rang out over the quiet hills. Frodo looked back at them, having wandered away while Aragorn and Boromir were arguing. Boromir felt his heart wrench when he saw the look of desolation and despair on Frodo's face.

The Fellowship began to head down after Frodo, each silent and withdrawn. Boromir found himself falling into step beside Legolas.

"Are you all right, Boromir?" Legolas said quietly.

"Yes, I'm fine. Are you all right?"

"No." Legolas shook his head. "I'm not. I don't know what we'll do without Mithrandir." Boromir looked at him, unsure of what to say.

"It's…hard to lose someone, I know," he said tentatively and then immediately regretted saying it. "I apologise-" Legolas cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"It's all right, Boromir. You were only trying to help. It was…kind of you." He shook his head. "I'll be fine."

Boromir nodded, letting the silence stretch between them again. Despite what Legolas had said, Boromir doubted any of them would be fine again. Every step he took screamed danger at him. They had already lost one member of their company and he couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until they lost another.

* * *

Again, sorry for taking so long, real life is a pain sometimes. And sorry for it being so short and kinda rubbishy. I've been away from writing for too long.


	9. The woods of Lothlórien

Hey, look! I'm back again. This was a deceptively hard chapter to do, but at least it's done. Some revelations in this chapter and more questions for you all to wonder about. As always, read, review (please), and (hopefully) enjoy!**  
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**Chapter Nine: The Woods of Lothlórien**

The weary miles between Moria and Lothlórien passed in a daze for the grief stricken Fellowship. Legolas walked in step with the others, stumbling occasionally on the uneven ground. If anyone had tried to speak to him then, he would not have noticed, his mind consumed with thoughts of Gandalf.

His head was aching. How could Gandalf be gone? Gandalf who had been a constant in his life for so long. Even his father had respected the wisdom of Mithrandir – a wisdom that was now lost forever.

He owed so much to Gandalf; things he'd never said thank-you for and could never repay him for. It had been Gandalf who had found him, lost and confused, wandering around Gondor after his escape from Mordor. It had been Gandalf who had convinced him to trust again, helped him find his old forgotten name, and had brought him back to his family…

Legolas jumped, startled, as a hand touched his arm. Immediately his mind reached out to the person and then relaxed.

"Aragorn?" He said quietly. His head pounded more fiercely.

"Are you all right, old friend?" Aragorn's voice was low with concern.

"I—I'm fine." Legolas gave a small start of surprise. That was not what he had intended to say. "Are we near Lórien?" It was like his mouth was moving of its own violation. Unless…Legolas's insides froze in horror. Was he losing control? Had Aragorn noticed?

"Quite close." Aragorn's tone was the same, giving no indication that he knew of Legolas's distress. "I bet if you concentrated, you could hear the birds in the trees."

"I'm having some trouble concentrating, I must admit." Some of the tension slid out of him. He had control again. Aragorn's hand squeezed his shoulder briefly.

"I understand, _mellon nin."_ Legolas could hear the grief in Aragorn's voice. "I miss him too."

*.*.*

Legolas was aware of the second he stepped beneath the fabled trees of Lothlórien. Almost immediately the pressure in his head eased and his step felt lighter. The smell of grass and trees reminded him sharply of his own woodland home to the north. A pang of homesickness pierced him, sending doubts swirling through his mind. He knew it was likely that he'd never walk under the trees of Mirkwood again if he continued to travel with the Fellowship. Mirkwood was not far from Lórien; he could be back in Mirkwood in a few weeks. He was not bound to the Fellowship by oath, after all, as Elrond had reminded them just before they left Imladris:

"_The others go with him as free companions…no oath or bond is laid on you to go further that you will."_

Yet almost as soon as he had thought it, he felt a ripple of disgust. Would it be said that he, chosen of all Elves to go on this Quest, was faithless and a coward?

_Never!_

The drawing of bowstrings startled him out of his pensive thoughts. His mind cast around for danger, wondering how he could have missed orcs sneaking up on them. Sluggishly his brain registered that it was not orcs after all, but Elves.

"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," a cool smooth voice said. Legolas heard Gimli growl softly behind him. There was a tense moment as the two groups faced off with each other, neither willing to back down.

"Do friends now draw bow on friends?" Legolas said in a quiet voice, stepping forward.

"They should not," the lead Elf replied. "But in these dark days friends come less and less to Lothlórien and enemies more oft."

"Upon my honour and my house, I swear we are not your enemy."

"And which house would you claim this on?" The Elf's voice held a hint of suspicion.

"The House of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. I am his son, Legolas."

A flurry of hushed murmurs swept the Elves, shock echoing faintly in their voices, and bowstrings were eased back, the arrows returned to quivers. The Elves led the Fellowship high into one of the trees where the lead Elf introduced himself as Haldir and began to greet them properly as guests. Legolas allowed himself to relax a little, since, for the moment at least, they seemed to be safe. Until Haldir turned his attention on Frodo.

"You bring great evil here. You can go no further," he said in a voice that brooked no argument. Legolas turned on him, furious and mustered all the authority of his position.

"I, too, bring a great evil, Haldir of Lórien, or have you forgotten?" he snapped. "Yet you do not deny me passage." He could sense Haldir's surprise at his sudden rage. "You would deny Frodo passage, yet he is less of a threat than I am. If you will not let him pass then I will remain here with him."

"You will allow all of us, or none, Haldir." Aragorn added.

Haldir was silent. Legolas stood protectively near Frodo, his anger beginning to ebb. Where had such fury come from? Had Sauron taken control again and he had failed to notice?

Another mind brushed his own briefly, causing him to flinch in alarm. Who was that? Few people had the ability to touch another's mind like that.

At last Haldir spoke again: "You will follow me."


	10. Past and Present

**Chapter Ten: Past and Present**

Despite the weariness of the grief-stricken Fellowship, Haldir forced them on through Lothlórien, further away from the orcs and goblins that would be certain to follow them from Moria. Frodo and the other Hobbits staggered with exhaustion, their bare feet aching, despite the cool forest floor beneath. They were not the only ones to openly show their exhaustion; everyone was noticeably slower and breathing harder.

Several times, Aragorn tried to persuade Haldir to allow them to rest, but the Elf was adamant that they could not. There was no trace of an apology in his tone, but his pace did slacken somewhat to let them catch up. Despite this, Aragorn and Boromir both deliberately slowed to help the Hobbits, their determined expressions forestalling any arguments from Haldir or any of the other Elves. Gimli, for his part, seemed to be coping quite well with the journey, though he grumbled the whole way about "pointy ears" and shot dark looks at the Elves. Legolas, Frodo noted, was looking much better, though he did stumble occasionally. The other Elves kept close to him, evidently worried.

At last, Haldir allowed them to rest on a hill, Aragorn informed him, that was called Cerin Amroth. Frodo couldn't help but notice the far-away look in his eyes and wondered what he was thinking of. The Fellowship scattered themselves on the grass, grateful for a rest after their long day. It was starting to catch up with them all.

Merry and Pippin were leaning against each other, looking dazed and ready to drop off to sleep in a heartbeat. Sam was busy sorting through his pack for something, trying to keep busy, Frodo guessed. Gimli and Boromir were deep in conversation and Aragorn had wandered a little away from the group, lost in his thoughts as he passed Legolas, who was sitting surrounded by softly chattering Elves.

Watching Legolas, Frodo realised that he looked rather uncomfortable among those he should view as kin. Frodo felt a stab of pity for him; Legolas had kept himself apart from most of the Fellowship during their journey so far, always looking strangely awkward when asked to relax and talk as part of the whole group. Frodo suspected that the Elf was more accustomed to solitude than large groups, and being fussed over by the Elves of Lothlórien was probably testing his patience. But still, he was suffering through it silently, refusing food and drink and not allowing himself to be drawn into conversation. If Frodo didn't know better, he would have said that Legolas looked rather flustered by all the attention, but that couldn't be right, Elves didn't get flustered. Then again, he thought, remembering the sudden outburst of anger Legolas had displayed just a few hours ago, that wasn't normal for Elves either. He was probably just upset about Gandalf, Frodo reasoned. However, noting the now-familiar strain in Legolas's face and the slight shaking in his hands, Frodo wondered if it was maybe something more. It reminded him strongly of the first time he'd met him, the night before the Council, after dinner…

*.*.*.* Flashback *.*.*.*

He'd spent the evening in a quiet, thoughtful mood, listening and observing his companions rather than actively participating in their conversations. However, the buzz of talk and the somewhat stifling heat of the hall began to wear on him and, begging the forgiveness of his friends, he left the hall to seek the cool fresh air outside.

Leaning against a railing, he looked up at the night sky, smiling at the swirling waves of deep purple clouds on a sea of blue and black, sparkling with the gentle light of a thousand stars. How long he stood there, musing on past memories and journeys still to come, he was unsure but he was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of voices in the courtyard below him.

From his vantage point above, Frodo could see the two people that entered the courtyard fairly clearly, aided by the many soft lanterns that were dotted around. One was a Man, that much was clear initially and it took Frodo several moments to actually recognise him as Aragorn. He looked so different out of the Wild. Since coming to Rivendell, Frodo had not seen much of the Ranger, who always seemed to be very busy.

The other was an Elf, unknown to Frodo, which wasn't unusual – he was very new to Rivendell and could not have possibly met everyone, especially with new people arriving every day. There was something odd about this particular Elf though, something that set Frodo slightly on edge. He couldn't take his eyes off him and yet barely noticed, as the Ring grew slightly heavier on its chain, as if trying to pull away from him. The Elf was walking very closely with Aragorn, almost brushing against him as they crossed to a bench to sit. He was somewhat lacking in a normal Elf's effortless grace and his face was pale and drawn – as if he'd been ill and had only just recovered. Did Elves even get ill, Frodo wondered as he watched the pair talking with the familiarity of old friends.

After a few minutes, Aragorn looked up and smiled in surprise as he spotted Frodo. He waved, indicating for Frodo to come down and join them. Frodo hesitated for a moment before nodding and running down to the courtyard. He stopped a few feet away, suddenly unsure again. The Ring felt hot and heavy around his neck, making him very uneasy.

"Don't be shy, Frodo," Aragorn urged, beckoning him forward. "This is Legolas, a very old friend of mine. He'll be at the Council tomorrow. Legolas, this is Frodo Baggins, our most important guest at the moment."

Frodo flushed in embarrassment. Legolas gave a faint smile and looked at Frodo with a blank disconcerting stare. "Pleased to meet you, Frodo Baggins."

"And you, Legolas." Frodo was unnerved by the Elf's stare. It was almost like he wasn't seeing Frodo at all.

"I've heard that name before, Baggins…Quite a while ago though," Legolas remarked casually.

"Perhaps you've met my uncle, Bilbo," Frodo suggested. Legolas looked puzzled for a moment and conferred quietly with Aragorn in Elvish.

"Of course," Legolas laughed suddenly. "I remember hearing the stories. Bilbo Baggins and all those Dwarves that upset my father so."

His father? Frodo was getting more and more confused by the second. Just who was this Elf? Aragorn, thankfully, came to his rescue.

"Legolas is the son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood," Aragorn explained. "The same Elven King your uncle mentions in his story, Frodo."

"You're his son?" Frodo asked, surprised. Legolas nodded, smiling.

"His third son actually. I'm here to represent Mirkwood at the Council. We have grave news to report." His smile faded and he turned his head to look up at the sky.

The silence stretched awkwardly. Now that he was much closer, Frodo could see signs of strain in Legolas's face and noted his clenched, trembling hands.

"Are you all right, Legolas?"

"I'm fine. I've been…ill the past few days."

His surprise must have shown on his face because Aragorn laughed.

"Yes, Elves get ill, just like us mere mortals," Aragorn said teasingly. Frodo felt his face grow more red. Aragorn turned his attention to Legolas, his mirth dying as he studied his friend.

"_Mellon nin,"_ he muttered. "Frodo is right. You do not look good. Would you like me to fetch Lord Elrond?" Legolas shook his head.

"I'm fine. It's not so bad. I can control it." His voice shook slightly, betrayed his calming words. Aragorn looked alarmed. Abruptly, Legolas doubled over, gripping in head in both hands. "It shouldn't be like this here. I don't understand!"

"Frodo! Get Gandalf and Lord Elrond! Run!" Aragorn ordered. Frodo didn't need telling twice. He ran back to the stairs to fetch help.

*.*.*.* End Flashback *.*.*.*

It wasn't until the day following the Council that Frodo had found out the story behind Legolas's "illness" and that it had been the sudden presence of the Ring that had triggered such a violent response from the Spirit inside Legolas. Since then, it seemed Legolas had grown more accustomed to its presence, but not enough that he could be close to Frodo for long periods of time.

"ENOUGH!"

Frodo jumped, startled as Legolas's voice pierced the still, quiet air. He looked up to see him pushing his way out of a crowd of suddenly baffled Elves.

"Just leave me be!"

Legolas shoved his way free of their restraining hands and bolted for the trees, disappearing in seconds.

"Legolas!" Aragorn shouted, shocked at his friend's behaviour. He turned on the other Elves, anger showing in his eyes but his voice was tempered and controlled. "What did you do?"

"Nothing! He just…he was fine, then angry," explained one Elf, clearly unused to using the Common Tongue. The rest of the Elves started trying to explain the situation in their native Elvish, chattering far too fast for Frodo to follow.

Aragorn shook his head and headed towards the trees to go after Legolas. The lead Elf, Haldir, grabbed hold of his arm.

"We will take care of our own."

Aragorn pulled his arm free. "You've done a terrible job so far. Besides, he's not "your own" anymore. He's one of us." He stared disapprovingly at the Elves and then started off again. Haldir did not try and stop him.

Frodo exchanged shocked looks with the remaining members of the Fellowship. No one looked tired anymore; too stunned by Legolas's total lack of composure and sudden departure. Suddenly, Gimli let out a snort and shook his head.

"Good on Legolas. Those pointy-ears would drive anyone mad with all that daft fussing they were doing. To be honest, I'm surprised he lasted that long."

* * *

There you are then, another chapter at long last. I would insert my usual rambling apology but you've heard it all before. I hope you enjoyed this new chapter though and I'll get cracking on the next. (Eventually...)


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